Dicks Over Tits
by JustAddRamen
Summary: GrimmIchi, Yaoi, Rated for Sexual Content and Explicit Language.    Grimmjow is partners with Busty Inoue Kurosaki for a chemistry project, and thinks he's the luckiest man in the world. He sees his mistake when he meets her sharp-tounged brother Ichigo.
1. Chapter 1

_I can't believe this is happening to me._

Me, Grimmjow Jeaggerjaques, of all people in the wide fucking world.

I've fucking died and gone to heaven, even if that's impossible after the shit I've done. 

It could've been anyone sitting in the room that day. It could've been that whiny bitch Kiego, or that stuck-up prick Ishida. But the teacher decided to be a lazy-ass and make us draw names out of a basket and it just happened to be my lucky day. I'd never been so giddy over a week-long project my entire life.

Ishida was glaring at me through narrowed eyes and Nnoitra snickered through a fistbump.

"Get some..." he encouraged without modesty. I grinned triumphantly; I'd sure as hell try. Inoue might be innocent and modest, but she's also clueless enough that you can trick her into punching herself in the face.

Personally, I was thinking something more along the lines of getting a hold of those, huge, voluptuous, bouncing, positively squeezable-

"H-hi Grimmjow-kun..." I hear her docile voice squeak.

And there they were, presented to me in all their shining glory, my desk suddenly standing in as their silver platter before I could say 'Hi girls!'.

If Inoue had a huge mole on her face, 98% of the male population wouldn't ever know it. Forget the fags. I was okay with being the majority in this instance.

"Hey Inoue," I mumbled through my grin, hiding my teeth in an effort not to freak her out any more than she already was; she was practically trembling in fear just sitting across from me, and I wasn't going to get anywhere with her if she was scared shitless. Not that I didn't love a little brain fuck, but she wasn't that type; her mind was too ridiculously fragile.

Her tits might be the only part of her that was fun to play with, but they were enough for me to get in a solid attempt.

Or six.

"G-Grimmjow-kun?" she stuttered, yanking me out of la-la land.

"Hmm?" I hummed, looking at her face for the first time that day.

"Your house or mine?" she was staring at her lap while she spoke, blushing like a ridiculous tomato. Even the tops of her ears were a comical scarlet.

_Like a blinking target._

"Yours," I didn't skip a beat.

An hour later I was walking home with her, listening to her apologize about the distance.

"-and I'm really sorry, but I've got to pick up some things for dinner," a pause. "You _are_ eating with us tonight, aren't you?" she tacked on the end.

"Can I? Thanks Inoue," I replied in a bland (sorry, _polite_) voice, hiding my real self as best as I could.

"Mhmm!" she squeaked, obviously relaxing a bit at the mention of food.

She rushed through the store and I had to power-walk to keep up with her as she hurried home, watching her fret as we got closer and closer. I tried to keep my eyes forward, but her stupid fun bags kept dancing with her every step, and I tripped (more than once) on my own feet.

"Inoue?" I asked after the fourth time I almost fell on my ass, "What's the fuc- What's the rush? We have all week."

She sent me a sidelong glance, as if summing me up.

"Oniichan gets mad when I'm late," she said simply.

"Oniichan?" I said so quietly it was almost a thought. I hadn't known Inoue had a brother. "How old is he?"

"Oh, he's our age," she chirped, opening the door to the apartment and standing aside to let me in first.

I almost groaned as I stepped in the entrance. She had those rugs. Those Goddamned expensive-ass ancient mats that make you scared to eat or drink anything or even walk on them. I hate the feeling of them under my feet, but Inoue wasn't going to figure it out. No, I was going to act like the good little Japanese boy I had never been and keep my mouth shut.

I slipped my shoes off as she did, internally wincing as she skipped off to the kitchen, leaving me alone. An irritated sigh or two and I was slumping against the starched couch, waiting. This was going to take a while and possibly some patience that I didn't have, but I convinced myself it was worth it. It was, right?

"I brought us some tea," she smiled, holding a tray up for me to see. "we can go up to my room to start the project-" she began.

Suddenly I was sitting up, nodding enthusiastically and very much liking this turn of events, when the front door opened again.

"Inoue, I'm home. Sorry I'm late, I got caught up with-" he paused, coat hanging halfway off his arms, and glared. He had the most menacing eyes I'd ever seen, and they were delicious; a perfect shade of honey and almond morphed into such an awful, piercing stare at the sight of me.

Inoue quickly set her tray on the table and helped him out of his coat, but his fire-filled scowl never left me. I suddenly felt a grin splitting my face.

"Oniichan, this is Grimmjow-kun. We're doing a project together for science class." she trilled.

He wouldn't look at her, and something about the way he held his jaw told me he knew exactly what I was there for.

"Ichigo Kurosaki," he muttered for her sake, holding out a hand. I took it gladly. His hot skin sent a thrill through my body, and his eyebrows rose minutely before he quickly pulled his arm away.

"We were just going upstairs," she offered, beginning to pick up the tea again.

"No, Inoue. Stay down here for today." he said firmly enough that she didn't object.

_Oh, fuck you Kurosaki._

He was obviously mocking me now, and I began to lose my already short-fused patience.

"So, _Strawberry_, any particular reason you're named after a fruit?"

Any mild humor that had been present in his expression before instantly vanished, and the Berry didn't even bother to answer me before he stomped into the kitchen. I watched Inoue flinch at the sound of breaking glass, and the grin was there again, almost painful in its monstrosity.

"So, the project," she changed the subject gracefully, only to be interrupted by the crashing of metal against tile. I resisted the urge to burst out laughing, and instead calmly stood and strutted toward the kitchen.

She starts to protest, but I turn and give her my most charming, non-freaky smile. I'm damn sexy when I want to be; I'm man enough to admit it.

"I'll just be a minute, get everything set up."

Her wide brown eyes look like a pile of reeking shit compared to his, I noticed. Isn't it strange how quickly one's opinions can change?

I find him standing there in the kitchen, mulling over the pieces of broken dishware, face tinged with a pink like I'd never seen. And God, that _hair_; like creamsickles on fire. I wanted to lick the Berry like a creamsickle and I'd only known him five minutes.

"Hissy fit?" I ask conversationally, leaning against a cabinet and smiling like a devil.

"Fuck you," he hissed, to low for Inoue to hear.

I would've stalked right over there and shown him why you should be careful what you wish for, but I didn't feel like playing Bruce Willis that day. I'd heard walking on broken glass with bare feet doesn't feel too good.

"Mmm, right now? I hadn't pegged you as the easy type, Kurosaki." matching his volume, letting my voice get husky a bit as I did.

"G-get out!" He pointed to the door behind me with so much force he almost stumbled and fell face first on the shards of pointy death before catching himself on the counter edge beside him.

"Then who will save you, princess?"

The evident incredulous rage that was absolutely _dripping_ off the Berry's expression was enough proof for me.

No one had ever treated him this way.

And he had absolutely _no_ idea what to do with it.

Behind that locked jaw, those furious eyes, that defensive stance, all I saw was a cornered animal.

And who was I to turn down a tasty meal?

I bit my lip against my growing sneer, and I swear to God he shivered. Much to my dismay, it wasn't from pent-up sexual desire.

And then he did it. I knew it was just to prove a point, just testosterone and adrenaline ruling out logic for a moment so he could prove his manly worth, but that didn't stop my jaw from hitting the floor when he tromped across the barbed glass in his socks and paused, inches from my face.

His eyes were glorious, flecked with a gold that reminded me of the sparkling dust that comes off of a fresh-picked grapefruit, and they were on _fire_, smoldering with a heat that shouldn't be possible for any human to muster.

"I know what you're up to you sick son of a bitch, and if you lay _one finger_ on my sister, I will personally rip your balls off and feed them to my neighbor's doberman. Do we have an understanding?"

He was close enough that I could feel the warmth of his whisper across the bridge of my nose, and I was so lost in his face that I nearly jumped when his knee bent minutely and brushed against the inside of my thigh.

_Oh _God _I was hard._

He was too close to notice it and so close that he almost did; I felt like hyperventilating, but instead I didn't breathe at all.

"Don't worry about it," I grit out, attempting to hide my condition. "I'm not interested in Inoue." _Anymore_, I added silently.

Even after I spoke, I couldn't breathe right. All I knew was that my chest was so tight, and he was still so close, and my stomach felt hot. _Really_ hot. Like someone had poured boiling water down my throat and I couldn't even focus on the pain properly because he was still there, glaring at me, fuming like a destroying angel.

And suddenly he leans forward and I see his perfect mouth open and I'm thinking, _Oh, God, he's going to kiss me_, but then I remember he isn't some horny, bisexual freak like me and he's spitting out an insult I can't hear through the ringing in my ears and then he's walking out of the kitchen, leaving me there with my fucked-up mind.

I planted a hand on the counter beside me and leaned hard. Air was finally coming and going; I was swallowing huge gulps of it again and again.

_What the fuck was that?_

"Shit," I hissed, scrubbing a hand over my face and trying to calm the fuck down.

And, right on time, Inoue bursts in the kitchen, panicking about something or other, waving her arms in distress. Blood? I didn't remember any violence. But she points to the floor, her high-pitched keening not registering as words in my head, and I see his bloody footprints, like a corny mystery movie, leading to the cause of all the emotional upset.

And I was afraid I would spill my tea on their fancy-ass tatami mats.

**(A/N)**

**Oooh, Grimmy's got it bad, ne? **

**-giggles at his emotional awkwardness-**

**Review so I don't bash my skull in, yeah? :D**


	2. Chapter 2

So... This wasn't weird at all.

I told Orihime I'd stay for dinner after she whined and complained about Ichigo's behavior, apologized; 'things like that never happen, yadda yadda yadda'. But to be perfectly honest, I wasn't planning on putting up much of a fight to get outta there. Things were just getting too interesting.

But now? Now I was having second thoughts.

The man that now sat across from me was making me beyond uncomfortable, which was quite a feat, considering...well, it was me. Sure, I myself enjoyed the game he was playing. Intimidation was great...as long as you were the intimidator. He has his ugly, squinty eyes focused on me, and it seemed like he'd never been taught common courtesy; when I looked up he kept right on staring.

I dug my fingernails into the wood underneath the table and set my jaw. I was seconds from leaping across the table and digging straight through his throat instead when Orihime cleared her throat subtley.

"Chi-chi," He didn't budge as she spoke. "Maybe we should eat."

"Tell your brother that, Orihime. We won't be starting without him."

She looked down at her lap dejectedly. We'd been sitting here long enough as it was, dammit. I was hungry. Yeah, I could see that it was some Japanese shit in front of me; something fishy and lots of rice, but at this point I didn't care. It was food, and I wasn't going to wait much longer.

In fact, I wasn't going to wait any longer at all.

"Excuse me." I grumbled, pushing away from the table, wooden chair almost snagging the mats underneath it. Western and Japanese things never mixed well; these fugly rugs weren't made to support more than a cushion and the heavy chairs were practically ruining the fabric as well as I would have if left to my own devices.

That little bitch was still upstairs, probably crying about having a penis that he didn't know how to use. So, I tromped up the steps, not really knowing my way around and not much caring either. I stuck my head in the first door I came to; nauseating. Pink and bunnies and rainbows everywhere... and firecrotch nowhere in sight. Next.

A bathroom, complete with a reasonably-sized shower. Good to know.

There was only one room left, so now it was inevitable.

"Drumroll please... and behind lovely door number three we haveee..." I opened the door quickly to make sure he had no time to lock it, but he hadn't even looked up. He was perched up on his bed, scowling at his bandage-wrapped feet. The blood had soaked through by this point, and the way they were wrapped, the bandages weren't doing any good to begin with.

"Shit, Kurosaki. I'm hungry. Can't you tell your feet to stop bleeding until after dinner?"

He wouldn't acknowledge that I'd entered the room, but I wasn't as pissed off as I normally was when someone ignored me. Those feet looked like they hurt.

I plopped on the other side of his mattress, facing him, and I was sure I saw his face tense just a tiny bit at the lack of personal space when I examined the bandages closer.

"Those look like a three year old tied them up."

There was nothing but silence from his end.

I sighed, giving up on making him speak and started to unwrap the gauzy material.

His furious eyes flew to my face for the first time since he'd threatened me back in the kitchen, but I wasn't going to give up that easy, regardless of how much flaming death was aimed straight at my handsome face. He seemed to sense this and went back to staring at his feet, sulking like a little girl.

I stopped unwrapping about halfway through and hopped off the bed, managing to find a new roll of gauze and tape on his desk. I settled my self back in place again and had to brush his hand away from trying to grab at what was in my hands. He scowled even more as I pulled him by the ankles so his feet were in my lap.

"When did you hop off your high horse and decide to be nice?" He refused to look at me as he muttered unappreciatively at his knees, and a wry smile crept onto my lips.

"Who says I'm not nice?"

"I've known you two hours," he snapped. "And I can already tell what a messed up psycho you are. Don't fuck around with me."

_But fucking with you is so much fun. _

The cloth was soaked through with dried blood, brown after sitting for an hour or so. Absolutely _gross_, in my expert opinion, but nothing compared to what was underneath it. I had it all unwrapped but the last layer, and I could feel the warm wetness of fresh blood on my fingertips.

"So you're into psychos, huh?" I teased, trying to keep my mind off what was in front of me. "Kinda weird, Strawberry."

He scrunched up his nose in disgust and tried to pull a leg away, but a firm grip on his ankle and a generally non-threatening glance from me and he relaxed it again, letting his heel fall to my lap with an uncomfortable _thud. _

I pulled off the last layer, and behold! The gore!

"You know," I swallowed thickly, trying to keep a hold on my stomach. "You'd prolly have some real nice Cinderelly feet if it weren't fer all this hamburger." I lifted his foot up for emphasis, and he made yet another sickened expression. I wondered how many of those faces he had hidden in there.

After bravely extracting a few pieces of missed glass that could've easily caused the continuous bleeding by themselves, I wrapped up one foot, then the other. By now he was just leaning his head against the headboard, leaving his feet sit on top of my folded legs. I felt like a stupid girl, but it felt good just to be touching him.

"Thank you." He mumbled, breaking the silence.

"Still hurts?" I asked, the faintest idea brewing inside my head.

"Well, yeah. New bandages aren't going to fix that."

"No." I agreed. "But I know something that might." I crawled over him, going out of my fucking way not to bump his girly-ass feet, but the little bastard caught me off guard and shoved me hard enough that I landed on my ass between his outstretched legs. I got a good hold around his knees and pulled him toward me until his impossibly long legs were wrapped around me and hung off the end of the bed behind us. His breath was speeding up, and his spread fingered hands tried to push me away, but I caught them and held them midair on either side of that pretty face of his.

And then I kissed him.

It wasn't_ rape _or anything, just a little peck. It could've been a kid kissing his mom. He didn't scream or curse or even crinkle up his freckley nose in another mask of disgust like I expected him to; he just sat there, in shock I guess, his mouth open a bit and his eyes wide enough I could see those faggy little sparkles again, making me loose my head. God, he tasted so fucking delicious I wanted to eat him right then and there.

I laughed, but the sound was uncomfortable.

"C'mon kid, I'm honestly starving." I stood up and put some distance between us before he could explode in my face; before I could skip dinner and go straight for dessert. To be honest, I'd never had much control when I wanted something badly enough.

I had to drag us both downstairs. My body wasn't willing enough by itself, but with him as extra baggage I was tempted to just follow my instincts, drag him to a secluded area, and devour him whole.

I didn't though. I sat back down at that God-forsaken table and muttered "Thank you for the meal," just like everyone else. My body was twitching with two types of hunger now, and just as I had a big, nasty wad of God-Knows-What halfway to my mouth, the front door burst open noisily.

"Fick mich," I grit out to myself. The Berry glanced at me sideways before setting his fork down with a gentle grace and stood up politely.

Right, I should've stopped eating, because that's the polite thing to do. But this family was killing me; I was so fucking starving by this point. I shoved four or five forkfuls of food straight into my mouth before anyone could stop me, and the new addition made their way around the corner and into view as I stood up.

I almost spat out the entirety of what had just entered my mouth, but managed to just choke on it.

"Welcome home, Mom." Ichigo recited, ignoring my struggle with an almost wry set to his mouth.

Mother of God, what kind of family was this?

* * *

**A/N:**

**Oooh, cliffhanger! Who's the mommy? :3**


End file.
